


Sing For Me, I'll Dance For You

by amairylle



Series: You Deserve Every Happiness [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Daichi sings like an angel and is also a med student, Fluff, It's already gotten away from me, M/M, Pining, Suga is an intimidatingly good dancer and a nerd, They're in grad school, This is so agressively self-indulgent, This was supposed to be a oneshot for a piece of art by Priintaniere, tags will update as the story does
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-21
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-10-22 06:59:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10692090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amairylle/pseuds/amairylle
Summary: Suga, long-suffering physics TA, is having the worst night of his grad school career to date, when a handsome stranger shows up on the sidewalk below his window and starts serenading him. After melting into the windowsill in happiness, Suga figures out that the man is serenading his neighbor. And he's devastatingly handsome.Daichi still hasn't given up on his ex-girlfriend taking him back, even though he probably should by this point. He goes to make a great romantic gesture and gets the wrong apartment, finds himself face-to-face with a literal angel, and ends up too flustered to even give out his name.Written for a piece of art byPriintaniere(linked in chapter) and the tumblr prompt: "Okay buddy you’ve been serenading the wrong window for about five minutes now, time to let you know my neighbor is out of town."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [priin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/priin/gifts).



Suga was reluctant to admit it, but he was a much better grader when tipsy. Alcohol didn’t magically make him better at math, unfortunately, but grading sober was boring and frustrating and tedious. The students at the bottom of the pile tended to suffer as much as Suga did. So whenever his Physics II class had a test, he’d break out the cheap wine and drink just enough soothe his frustration.

It didn’t always work.

There was a TA for each of the four sections of the lecture, but Michimiya was at a conference in Kyoto, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki had given themselves mono, which left Suga with over 200 physics tests and a stress headache. There wasn’t enough cheap wine in the apartment to make grading 200 physics tests pleasant. Suga sighed and rubbed his temples. Maybe he should raid his roommate Oikawa’s stash of weird ice cream. It’d at least help the headache.

A quarter of the way through the stack, Suga leaned back in his chair to pop his back. This was the amount of effort he’d usually expend, and now he needed to do it three more times. He sighed and eyed the wine bottle, which was emptier than he'd like. It wasn’t all bad however. In fact, it was going better than usual. Maybe the music playing was putting him in a halfway-decent mood. He’d have to remember that for next time.

Suga abruptly sat up, confused. He’d never put on any music. It was coming through the open window.

After refilling his wine glass, Suga stood up and stretched. Now was as good a time for a break as any. Fresh air would do him good, and he could figure out which of his neighbors left the stereo on. Maybe ask them for the band's name. He walked over to the window, looked outside and gasped. On the sidewalk below his apartment stood a young man with dark hair, broad shoulders, a guitar, and an absolutely gorgeous singing voice. Suga couldn't turn away. The man’s baritone was rich and powerful, but he could also hit high notes with ease. Suga slowly melted into his windowsill. He could listen to this all night. He took a sip of his wine and tried to pay attention to the lyrics.

“What have I been waiting for?” the man sang. “Something always brings me back to you. Labyrinthine nights, and you've always got the clues.” The streetlight was very attractive on his cheekbones. "I'm lost in you. Oh, I've always been lost in you."

Suga's cheeks went hot. The man was clearly serenading someone, and it can’t have been Suga. He’d never seen this man before in his life. At the end of the song, Suga opened the door to his balcony and stepped outside. “Um, excuse me,” he said, “how long have you been out there?”

The man almost dropped his guitar. “Um, fifteen minutes?” He hesitated, eyes wide. “Maybe twenty.”

“Oh no,” Suga said. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice sooner.” A bold smirk spread across his face. “Were you singing for me?”

The man suddenly became very interested in his hands. Even in the dim light Suga could see blush on the tips of the man’s ears. He mumbled something.

“Sorry?” Suga leaned over the edge of the balcony, hand cupping his ear. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I was looking for Michimiya,” he said, a little louder. “I thought no one else would be home.”

Suga giggled. “Well,” he said, “there’s your first mistake.”

The man looked up. “Oh?”

“Yeah. You’ve got the apartment numbers mixed up. Michimiya lives in the apartment next to mine. Over there.” He pointed to his left.

“Ah,” said the man, moving over to the space below Michimiya’s apartment. “Sorry for the disturbance. Thank you.”

“Suga,” Suga said, the wine making him bold. Well, bolder.

“Suga?” The man stopped walking and asked over his shoulder.

“Sugawara. It’s my name, but most people call me Suga. And you're not disturbing me.” Suga sipped his wine. “Ask me what your second mistake is.”

The man flushed again. “What?”

“Ask me what your second mistake is!”

He gave Suga a glare, some of the color leaving his face. A shame. “You’re a little too gleeful.”

“I’ve been grading tests for a few hours, and I have several hours left. You’re the most exciting thing that’s happened to me all night,” Suga said, leaning back into his wall with a frown. “You’re probably the most exciting thing that will happen to me all night, too. Let me enjoy this." He winked at the man. "Now, ask me what you second mistake is, Musician-san!”

The man sighed. “What’s my second mistake, Sugawara-san?”

“Michimiya is out of town. And just Suga is fine, really! You’ve been serenading me for a half an hour, haven’t you?”

Musician-san winced. “She’s out of town?”

“At a conference in Kyoto”

“Ah. I’m sorry.”

“It’s absolutely fine! I loved the music. You’re really quite good.” Suga giggled again and took another sip of his drink, trying to hide his own blush behind the excuse of being tipsy. “I liked the last song in particular. I’d never heard it before.”

Musician-san did his best not to meet Suga's eyes. “I uh,” he stammered. “I wrote that one.”

“You did?!” Suga crowed, leaning over the balcony. “It was so good!”

“Don’t fall off!” Musician-san shouted, rushing forward as if to catch him.

Suga laughed and rebalanced himself. “I’m fine, I promise,” he said. “You’re very sweet, though.”

“I’d just rather you not fall to your death,” Musician-san replied.

“Don’t worry, I’ve done far stupider things on this balcony, and I’m still perfectly fine!”

“That’s not comforting.”

“Sorry!”

They paused, staring at each other.

“So,” Suga said, “You write music?”

“Here and there,” Musician-san replied. “I’m still learning, though.”

“Are you in a band?” Suga asked.

“Maybe?”

Suga snorted. “What does ‘maybe’ mean?”

“It means that my potential bandmates need to get their act together, and then maybe there will be a show. You know, if grad school doesn’t kill us all first.” He chuckled, and took a step back into the streetlight, fully lit for the first time. Suga’s heart skipped a beat. His face was as pretty as his voice.

“Yeah,” Suga said, mouth suddenly dry. “I feel that.”

Musician-san bit his lower lip, as if he was thinking of whether or not to say something. He shifted from foot to foot.

“You ok?” Suga asked.

“Yeah,” he replied. “I uh…”

Suga leaned in again.

“Don’t do that!” He said. “Stay on your balcony.”

“That’s not what you were going to say.”

“Maybe I won’t say it now.”

“Aw, come on.”

They paused again. Suga could hear his heart beat.

“If we ever get it together,” Musician-san said, “you should come and see us.”

“I will.” Suga promised, without thinking. He gave Musician-san his warmest smile.

“Okay,” Musician-san said. “Okay. I uh, I should go.”

Suga didn’t want him to, but suddenly the physics tests were louder than the siren call of his own thirst. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. Uh. Have a good night?”

“Yeah,” Musician-san replied. “You too.”

Musician-san turned around to leave, and Suga almost did fall off the balcony at the sight of the man’s muscular legs. He staggered inside. Maybe he should cut himself off from the wine. He was almost too tipsy to grade, especially since he'd drunk the last glass rather quickly while listening to Musician-san.

He froze in the middle of his living room. He realized the never actually got Musician-san’s name. He scrambled back towards the window, but the man was already gone.

“Fuck me,” Suga said, running a hand through his hair. He slammed the balcony door behind him, stomped into the kitchen, and pulled a couple cartons out of the freezer. If he had to suffer, so did Oikawa’s ice cream supply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was going to be a one-shot. It's gotten so far away from me already. Help.
> 
> Also, if you've never heard Daichi's Seiyuu singing, [here's a compilation of a bunch of songs he's done.](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7BKi3ANi2XM)
> 
> EDIT: RIIN DREW ART FOR THIS CHAPTER!!!!!!! IT'S PERFECT AND BEAUTIFUL AND I LOVE IT!!!!!! [It's on her tumblr here.](http://priintaniere-archive.tumblr.com/post/160672755317/please-do-not-repostedituse-without-my)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Tell me what happened!” Oikawa moved Suga’s pillow of tests to the coffee table and sat down, throwing a conspiratorial arm around Suga’s shoulders. “I want to know if it was really worth both pints of ice cream.”
> 
> “How is Iwa?”
> 
> “Broad," Oikawa sighed. "Muscular." He licked his lips. "Energetic. Creative. _Full_ of stamina—“
> 
> Suga gagged. "Forget I asked."
> 
> Oikawa cackled. "Don't try to change the subject, Kou-chan," he said. "It's not going to work."

When Oikawa got back the next morning, he found Suga passed out on the couch, ink smudges on his face, using the stack of physics tests as a pillow. Two empty wine bottles were on the coffee table, next to a couple of empty pint containers. He glowered.

“Kou-chan!” Oikawa yelled, voice bright and cheery. He stomped over to the window and yanked open the curtains.

Suga winced. “What time izzit?” he asked.

“About 9:30,” Oikawa replied.  _ “Perfect _ time to start the day.”

“It’s 9:30 on a Sunday and I’m hungover,” Suga whined. pushing his head up off the tests just enough to glare at Oikawa. “What is your  _ problem, _ Kawa?”

Oikawa pointed at the pint containers. “The molasses was limited edition,” he said, voice cold. “And the avocado, mint, and sour cream one is one of my favorites.”

“Is that what it was?” Suga muttered, trying to keep his voice light.

“Mean, Kou-chan!” Oikawa cried. “How drunk did you  _ get?” _

“Not that drunk,” Suga said. “It was a long night, but not that long.”

“One, two bottles of wine? By yourself? Two, just because you hate grading doesn’t mean you have an excuse to steal all my ice cream.” Oikawa pouted and crossed his arms, in his best attempt at a threat. He looked like a grouchy Pomeranian.

Suga sat up, regret pounding in the back of his head. or was that the hangover? “I never tried to use grading as an excuse,” he said. “And if I have to suffer, so do you.”

A sly grin spread across over Oikawa’s face. “So either you  _ are _ trying to use grading as an excuse, or something  _ else _ happened last night.”

Suga narrowed his eyes. “I’m using grading as an excuse,” he deadpanned.

“You’re lying!”

Suga groaned.

“Tell me what happened!” Oikawa moved Suga’s pillow of tests to the coffee table and sat down, throwing a conspiratorial arm around Suga’s shoulders. “I want to know if it was really worth both pints of ice cream.”

“How is Iwa?”

“Broad," Oikawa sighed. "Muscular." He licked his lips. "Energetic. Creative.  _ Full _ of stamina—“

Suga gagged. "Forget I asked."

Oikawa cackled. "Don't try to change the subject, Kou-chan," he said. "It's not going to work."

Suga whined and dropped his head into his hands. "He was so  _ hot, _ Kawa."

"I  _ knew _ something else happened!" Oikawa crowed. "Wait, Kou-chan, you said he was hot. How the hell did you meet a hot guy while you were at home. By yourself. _ Grading tests!" _

"I don't know!" Suga threw up his hands. "He just kind of showed up."

"To see you?!" Oikawa cackled. "Kou-chan, this is incredible." He pulled out his phone. "I'm calling Iwa-chan. He needs to hear this."

"Please don't."

"I'm gonna." Oikawa fiddled with his phone and a dial tone rang through the living room. "Iwa-chan, you're on speaker!"

"Shittykawa." The tinniness of the phone speakers did nothing to soften Iwaizumi's famous disapproving voice. "I kicked you out earlier because I had to study."

"But this is important, Iwa-chan! Kou-chan—“

"He's mocking my pain, Iwa," Suga interrupted, stealing Oikawa's phone.

"You were grading all night, last time I checked," Iwaizumi said. "What's there to mock?"

"What, you're saying the grading isn't painful enough?"

"Apparently," Oikawa said, using his superior arm length to get the phone back. "He met a hot guy. Somehow. And it went badly enough that he ate two pints of my ice cream."

"Oh?" Iwaizumi asked. "Which two?"

Suga turned over the cartons. "A molasses one and... the avocado, mint, and sour cream one."

"Ew, how?"

"Alcohol and disappointment, probably. The molasses wasn't half-bad, though."

"Cool, I'll come over when he buys more."

_ "Would you two stop!" _ Oikawa whined. "Okay, first of all, Iwa-chan, the molasses was limited edition. I probably can't get any more, and neither will you. Second of all, I called you so that you could mock Kou-chan with me. Not so you could mock  _ me." _

Iwaizumi chuckled. "I doubt Koushi deserves the mocking—"

"Thanks, Iwa, I appreciate it."

"—But you've already interrupted me from work, and apparently it was worth Oikawa's gross avocado bullshit, so I'm interested," Iwaizumi finished.

Suga groaned. Oikawa cheered.

"If you're willing to share, of course," Iwaizumi said.

"I've already lost," Suga said. "I can tell. Kawa, you owe me breakfast for waking me up before noon, though."

"What? No!" Oikawa squawked.

"Breakfast, a good one, or I don't tell either of you anything."

Oikawa pouted.

"Tooru," Iwaizumi said. "Come on. It's probably worth it."

"Iwa-chan, that's cheating!"

"I can hear you pouting."

"Fiiiiine." The pout fell off Oikawa's face with surprising speed. "Are waffles okay?" he asked Suga sweetly.

"Waffles would be great. As would coffee." Suga gave Oikawa a pointed look.

"I'm not moving until you're done talking," Oikawa said.

"Fine." Suga sighed. "So, he showed up last night. With a guitar. And he serenaded the living room window for a solid twenty minutes before I noticed he was there."

_ "Serenaded?" _ Oikawa screeched. "Kou-chan that's so romantic!"

"Holy shit," Iwaizumi agreed.

"Yeah," Suga said. "It would've been a hell of a lot more romantic if I'd been Michimiya."

Oikawa laughed so hard he dropped the phone. "He had the  _ wrong window??!" _

Suga picked the phone back up and put it on the coffee table. Iwaizumi's laughter echoed through the phone, barely audible over Oikawa's. "Wait," Suga said. "It gets worse."

"How," Iwaizumi choked out through his laughter. "How could it possibly get worse."

"Well I was decently inebriated. You now, 200 physics tests and all." Suga said. "I don't think I was very nice."

"So you teased him within an inch of his life," Oikawa said, bursting into fresh peals of laughter.

"Maybe," Suga stuck out his lower lip.

"It's how you flirt, Kou-chan."

"It's  _ what?" _

Oikawa fell off the couch. "You're twenty-three years old and you still haven't figured it out?"

"Leave me." Suga dropped his head in his hands. "Leave me to die."

It took a few moments for Iwaizumi and Oikawa to regain their composure. "So," Iwaizumi asked, finally, "You flirted with him for a while, and he was hot. Did he flirt back?"

"I think?" Suga replied. "He seemed really flustered."

"It's probably because you're attractive and intimidating, Kou-chan," Oikawa said.

"I am not!" Suga cried.

"You're not attractive?" Iwaizumi asked, teasing.

"I'm not intimidating!" Suga corrected, pouting.

Oikawa cackled. "Kou-chan, we've both been on the receiving end of your flirting. You can be a little intimidating."

"More than a little," Iwaizumi agreed.

"You guys suck," Suga said. "So much. Those waffles you're getting me had better be fucking amazing, Kawa."

"They will be," Oikawa said. "Keep going."

Suga sighed. "He was really nice," he said. "He seemed really worried I was going to fall off the balcony—which I wasn't, by the way. He was also really, really hot."

"What was his name?" Iwaizumi asked. "Did you get his number?"

Suga did his best to melt into the couch. "I didn't get his number," he said, as quietly as possible.

"Aww, that's okay Kou-chan," Oikawa said. "We can still probably find him."

"What did he say?" Iwaizumi said. "The phone didn't pick it up."

"No phone number." Oikawa said.

Iwaizumi was silent for a minute. Suga gulped. "What did he say exactly, Tooru?" Iwaizumi said, finally.

"Um, he said, 'I didn't get his number.'"

Another pause. "So he didn't answer my first question" Iwaizumi said.

"Ooooh, he didn't!" Oikawa turned to Suga. "What's his name, Kou-chan?"

"I don't know!" Suga wailed. "All I know is that he's a beautiful singer with impressive biceps and a really nice face and his  _ thighs." _ Suga put his face in his hands. "I could barely see his thighs, and I already know that he could kill me with a clear view of them."

Oikawa rolled around on the floor as he laughed.

Suga picked the phone up off the coffee table. "Iwa," he whined. "Please tell me that you're at least a little sympathetic."

By the time Iwaizumi managed to respond, Oikawa was laughing so hard he wasn't making any noise and had tears in his eyes. "I'm sorry," Iwaizumi said, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice. "I dropped my phone. What did you say?"

"Sympathy," Suga said. "I would like some. Please, Iwa?"

"Sorry, can't. I'm too busy laughing."

"There's no sympathy here, Kou-chan," Oikawa said. "I can provide waffles, though."

"You were going to do that anyway, Crappykawa. Don't dangle it in front of him like a consolation prize."

"It's okay," Suga said. "I will take the waffles. I like waffles. Maybe waffles can distract me from how pathetic this is."

"It's not that pathetic," Iwaizumi said.

"It's pretty pathetic," Suga countered.

"It is pretty pathetic," Iwaizumi agreed, "but I'm not going to let you wallow in it."

"Aw, thanks Iwa. I love you too."

"Anytime, Koushi." Iwaizumi said. "Is Tooru pouting?"

"You know he always does." Suga looked over. "It's a pretty impressive pout."

"Tooru, you jealous idiot." Iwaizumi said. "You know I love you best." His voice dropped, gruff and embarrassed.

Oikawa lit up. "Iwa-chan! I love you too!"

Suga laughed. "You guys are gross. Iwa, I can hear you blushing."

"Tease me and I won't make Tooru take you to the really fancy breakfast place," Iwaizumi said.

"I rescind my teasing." Suga said, seriously.

"Thanks," Iwaizumi said. "Tooru, take him to the really fancy breakfast place."

"The one that’s two streets over from the dance studios?" Oikawa asked.

"No, the  _ really _ fancy one. Between the antique place and the overpriced supermarket."

Oikawa thought for a moment. "Okay," he said. "I know where that is."

Suga stared at Oikawa, shocked. "You're not even protesting?"

"It was pretty pathetic, Kou-chan," Oikawa said.

"Gee, thanks."

"If it makes you feel any better," Iwaizumi said, "I'll keep my eyes open for any well-built guitarists with angelic voices."

"And lethal thighs," Oikawa added.

"And lethal thighs." Iwaizumi said. "But if either of you interrupt my studying again, I'm not speaking to you until after exams are over."

"Iwa-chan!" Oikawa yelped. "That's not fair!" he picked up the phone and frowned. "He hung up…"

Suga laughed. "It's fine. Let’s go. You apparently owe me some very fancy waffles."

"You kind of deserve them," Oikawa said. "But if you tell anyone I said so, I'm never buying you breakfast again."

"That's fair," Suga said. He pushed himself up off the couch. "Can I shower?"

"This is a limited offer."

Suga smirked. He flopped against the wall in an overexaggerated swoon. "Oh no," he said. "I'm so sad. I'm crying inside because of how pathetic last night was." He sunk down to the floor. "I'm going to just sit here and mope for the next three days."

"Kou-chan! Rude!" Oikawa pitched one of the empty pint containers at Suga. It bounced off his head. "Go take your stupid shower."

"Well, now I have to," Suga said, "You got ice cream dregs in my hair." He dodged the second pint container, cackling, and ran into the bathroom before Oikawa found something else to throw.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Come join me on [Tumblr](http://amairylle.tumblr.com) so I have more people to scream to about exactly how deep this rabbit hole goes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asahi slid into the booth with a fresh cup of coffee for Daichi and another for himself. Daichi reached around his laptop and took it. "Thanks," he said.
> 
> "No problem," Asahi replied. "What are you moping about?"
> 
> Daichi took a cautious sip of his coffee. "Who says I'm moping?"
> 
> Asahi looked unimpressed. "I've known you for eight years, Daichi. You're easier to read than you think you are."
> 
> "For you, maybe."
> 
> "That's what matters right now, isn’t it?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is consistent chapter length? We just don't know. Watch as they're like 10k long by the end of the fic.
> 
> Sorry this took so long! I'm coming up on exams, so I've been having to prioritize schoolwork and it's gross. Thanks for reading, though!

The diner closest to campus always cleared out by eleven on Monday nights. It was never truly empty, because it's one of the few places that students can get coffee at literally any hour of the night, but early in the week it usually got empty enough that Asahi could spend the last hour or two of his shift talking to Daichi instead of waiting tables. Daichi was a semi-permanent fixture in the corner booth, taking advantage of the fact that it was half-blocked off in order to study uninterrupted for hours. He showed up more often closer to exams, and now that they were two weeks away, he was there almost every night.

Asahi slid into the booth with a fresh cup of coffee for Daichi and another for himself. Daichi reached around his laptop and took it. "Thanks," he said.

"No problem," Asahi replied. "What are you moping about?"

Daichi took a cautious sip of his coffee. "Who says I'm moping?"

Asahi gave him a flat look. "I've known you for eight years, Daichi. You're easier to read than you think you are."

"For you, maybe."

"That's what matters right now, isn’t it?” Asahi examined Daichi over the rim of his coffee cup. "You're moping, but it's different from usual."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Asahi hummed. "You went to Michimiya's this weekend."

Daichi stiffened. "What of it?" he asked.

"You went to see Michimiya," Asahi replied, "And now you're moping." He sighed. "Daichi, have you maybe considered trying to date someone else?" he asked. It was a question Daichi had heard several times before, usually after he and Yui broke up again.

Daichi put his head in his hands. He had dated other people during the "off-again" phases of his and Yui's on-again, off-again relationship. None of them had worked out in any meaningful way. Asahi had listened to him complain about them (and Yui) every single time, usually in this very booth. Daichi owed Asahi too many drinks for his friend’s endless patience.

“Yeah,” he said. “I went to see Yui. It went…” Daichi looked out the window, blush rising on his face, unable to meet Asahi’s eyes. God, where to begin?

“So it is different,” Asahi said, pinning Daichi with his gaze. “What happened, Daichi?”

“…Well, you know I took my guitar right? She likes it when I sing for her, so I thought I’d just sing for her for a bit, and maybe take her out after?” He looked at Asahi for support, a grimace on his face.

Asahi sighed. “Daichi…”

“I know.”

“I’m probably overstepping, but I really wish you’d stop doing this.”

Daichi stared at Asahi for a minute, the silence growing thick between them. He wasn’t sure what to say to that.

Lucky for Daichi, Asahi broke first. “I’m sorry!” he said, breaking eye contact and pushing back from the table. “You’re an adult and you can make your own decisions and I really want to respect that…” He took a sip of coffee, as if using the pause to choose his words. “It’s been six years, Daichi. You’ve been trying to make this work for six years. And if it hasn’t yet… I’m not sure it’s going to.”    Daichi stared at Asahi again. Asahi's his fingers were twitching around the coffee cup and daichi could feel his leg bouncing under the table. But he kept trying to meet Daichi’s eyes, like he wanted to use a glare to make the words to sink in.

Daichi laughed, making Asahi jump.

“How long have you been waiting to say that?” Daichi asked.

“I’m not sure?” Asahi squeaked. “Since sophomore year at least.”

“Yours or mine?”

“Mine.”

Daichi laughed again. “Congrats on finally doing it then. It’s gratifying to see you growing a spine.”

Asahi frowned, his fingers stilling. “I’m not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not.” He’s smiling as he says it though.

“You should,” Daichi grinned. “Being less timid and weak-willed is a good thing.”

“That’s a little backhanded!” Asahi whined. “Why are you so nice to everyone but me?”

Daichi made a noncommittal grunt. He’s given a lot of answers to that question, from “I want you to be stronger” to “You’re really fun to tease.” None of his previous answers were untrue, but…

“I think,” Daichi said, “It’s because maybe you should be a little less nice to me.”

It’s Asahi’s turn to stare. “But you’re my best friend,” he said. “I want to be nice to you.”

“And that’s fine!” Daichi said. “But you’re clearly fed up with my stupid relationship choices and maybe I need to hear that more often.”

“They’re not that stupid…”

“They are that stupid, Asahi. And I know they’re that stupid. And yet I went over to Yui’s house on Saturday and tried to serenade her in the hopes of us getting back together.” He dropped his head on the table as soon as he finished.

He heard Asahi chuckle. “It’s nice to hear that you know you’re being stupid, but if that’s the case, why do you keep trying?”

“Because it’s really nice until it falls apart,” Daichi told the table.

“You deserve better than that, Daichi.”

Daichi sat back up.

Asahi tensed again. “I’m so—“

“Don’t,” Daichi said. “I needed to hear that too.”

Asahi nodded. “Ok,” he said, studying Daichi again. He hums, contemplating. “I think I made a mistake.”

“Oh?”

“Now you’re moping in the usual way.”

“Do I really have that many different ways of moping?”

Asahi laughed. “You have as many different flavors of moping as I have different flavors of anxiety. You’re just better at hiding them.” He took another sip of his coffee and a light went on behind his eyes. “Wait a second,” he said.

“What?” Daichi asked.

“You said ‘tried to serenade.’ Not ‘serenaded.’”

Daichi flushed. “Did I?” He asks carefully.

“Yes.” Asahi gave him a Look. It was a familiar look, but Daichi was used to giving it to Asahi, not the other way around. It was the something-embarrassing-happened-in-your-love-life-and-I-want-details look. Daichi fidgeted, suddenly aware of the fact that Asahi could keep him here all night. All he had to do was refuse to let Daichi pay for his food until he confessed because Asahi was perfectly aware that Daichi would never skip out on a bill. Daichi shifted uncomfortably. Asahi’s patience had never felt intimidating before.

Daichi dropped his head back into his hands and closed his laptop with a groan. It was going to be impossible to explain what happened in a way that wasn’t embarrassing. He bit the bullet and looked up.

“Take your time,” Asahi said, gently, although the Look did not leave his face.

“Okay,” Daichi said. “Okay.” He took a deep breath. “So I tried to serenade Yui on Saturday. It didn’t work.”

Asahi waited.

“It didn’t work,” Daichi continued, “because Yui is out of town. Which I found out because her neighbor told me so after I serenaded his window for twenty minutes instead.” Daichi face-planted into the table again.

“Ouch,” Asahi said, patting Daichi’s arm sympathetically. “It could have been worse, I guess?”

“It was worse,” Daichi mumbled. “He was really hot.”

“What? I can’t hear you.”

Daichi turned his head, and gave Asahi a pathetic look. “He was really hot, Asahi.”

Asahi did his best to hide his smirk in the coffee cup. “How hot?”

“Hot enough that I forgot to introduce myself.”

Asahi choked on his coffee, then looked away, biting his knuckle to keep from laughing. “Oh my god, Daichi,” he said.

“I appreciate your attempts to not laugh at me.”

“Noya’s going to die when he finds out.”

“If you value our friendship, you will not say a word.”

Asahi met Daichi’s eyes and raised an eyebrow; a challenge. Daichi sighed. Noya was going to know as soon as Asahi got home, and there was nothing Daichi could do about it.

“What was he like?” Asahi rested his chin on his hand, not even bothering to hide his smile anymore. “Besides hot.”

“I mean, ‘hot’ was a pretty important part of the whole equation…”

“I want specifics, Daichi.”

Daichi groaned. “Is this you getting back at me for every time I tortured you about Noya?”

“You’ve kind of earned it,” Asahi said. He then tensed and shook his head. “Wait, no, I’m sorry. That’s too much.”

“It’s fine,” Daichi waved him off. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think it was fair.”

Asahi nodded. “Details, then? I’d like to hear what happened sometime before the end of my shift, if that’s ok.”

Daichi drained his coffee, which was now closer to cold than he would like. He could still hear the man’s voice: bright, cheerful, teasing:

_ “Are you singing for me?”  _

Daichi blushed at the memory. “I think he liked it. My singing.”

“Is that all?”

Daichi shook his head. “He kept asking about it. And complimenting me. And teasing.” He ran a hand through his hair. “He spent the whole conversation teasing me.”

Asahi snickered, failing to hide it behind his cup.

Daichi shot him a weak glare. “He seemed really cute though? And maybe into me?”

“Oh?” Asahi smirked. “Just maybe?”

“He was kind of tipsy. I’m not sure how much was him and how much was the alcohol.”

Asahi frowned. “Don’t sell yourself short,” he said. “If he spent a whole conversation teasing you, he’s probably into you.”

“You think?”

Asahi shrugged. “I mean, my whole basis for comparison is Noya, and half his social interactions are devoted to teasing me. But supposedly it’s a thing that other people do too.”

“Oh.” Daichi looked into his empty coffee cup as if it had answers, but all he could see was a smiling face painted pink with blush, delicate hands gesturing wildly with a wine glass, fluffy silver hair. “Shit.” He said.

“Do you want to see him again?” Asahi asked.

“Shit,” Daichi repeated. “I think I do.”

“Okay,” Asahi said. “I know you were too flustered to give him your name—”

“Hey.”

“—but did he give you anything we can use to find him?”

Daichi wracked his brain. “His last name is Sugawara. I don’t have a first name, but he said he goes by ‘Suga.’”

“Darn. That doesn’t sound familiar. What did he look like?”

Daichi groaned. “Okay,” he said. “Um, he’s kind of tall? It was hard to tell because he was on a balcony, but I think he’s tall. And slender. And he’s really pale. And his face is just…” he sighed, dreamily.

Asahi snickered, this time without using his cup as a shield.

“Stop that,” Daichi said. Asahi stopped, sheepish. Daichi glared at him and continued, “His face is really… delicate is the word I’d use, I think. He has a beauty mark under his left eye, but I couldn’t get his eye color. Brown, maybe? And he’s got really nice hair. Kind of silver. Really fluffy.” When he stopped, he realized Asahi was looking away from him, hiding his red cheeks behind a fist, shaking with silent laughter.

“You sure noticed a lot,” Asahi said.

“Shut up! I said he was distractingly attractive.”

“I can see that,” Asahi said. “He does sound kind of familiar, though.”

Daichi tried to hide his excitement. Judging from the snort Asahi tried to pass off as a cough, he didn’t do a very good job.

“He comes in on occasion, with Iwaizumi, usually around midterms and finals.” Asahi said. “From the way they behave, I thought they were dating, to be honest.”

Daichi’s face fell.

“It might not be like that!” Asahi said hurriedly. “He might be poly, or just really concerned with Iwaizumi’s health. Like I am with yours, only…pushier. Besides, isn’t Iwaizumi dating Oikawa? That’s what it says on Facebook.”

“I can’t believe you have a Facebook,” Daichi said, pulling out his phone.

“I can’t believe  _ you _ have a Facebook,” Asahi shot back.

“I can’t believe  _ Iwaizumi _ has a Facebook,” Daichi retorted. “That’s easily the weirdest thing.”

“Yeah, it is. What’s Facebook say?” Asahi asked, nodding at Daichi’s phone.

Sure enough, according to Facebook, Iwaizumi Hajime was in a relationship with Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa’s social media presence was as good as his word, so it had to be true. But Daichi couldn’t shake his nerves.

“Facebook doesn’t allow you to mark more than one person, though,” he said. “What if he’s dating both of them?”

“Daichi,” Asahi said, gently taking the phone away from him. “You should ask Iwaizumi about him instead of working yourself up.”

“I’m not working myself up,” Daichi scoffed.

Asahi laughed. “I, of all people, know what working yourself up looks like.”

“Fine,” Daichi said. “What do I do instead?”

Asahi thought for a bit. “Well, you could ask Iwaizumi about him. You could also try and Facebook-stalk him—you do have his name and know that he’s Iwaizumi’s friend, after all.” Asahi paused, frowning like he did when he didn’t want to say something.

“Spit it out,” Daichi said.

Asahi sighed. “I’m only telling you this because I’ve never seen you this far gone about someone in your life, but he usually comes in with Iwaizumi, once or twice per exam period, always after 9 pm, and he hasn’t yet. So if none of the other options work and you don’t mind being really creepy, you can come in and see if you run into him.”

Daichi considered it. “I hope it doesn’t come to that. I’d rather not actually stalk him.”

“You’re in here all the time before exams anyway.”

Daichi laughed. “Since when are you the enabler?” he asked.

“Since when are you the one whining pathetically while I give advice?” Asahi retorted. “Usually it’s the other way around.”

“Did you just call me pathetic?”

Asahi blanched. “I’m sorry! I was trying to call myself pathetic, actually.”

Daichi laughed again and reached across the table to clap Asahi on the shoulder. “I’m teasing. And you’re not pathetic, Asahi. You know that.”

“More or less,” Asahi said.

Daichi glared at him.

“Okay! Yes! I know!” Asahi relented, laughing. “I hope this works out for you,” he added. “You deserve something nice.”

“You think he’ll be nice?” Daichi said.

“Yeah,” Asahi said. “I think so.”

Daichi smiled. “Thanks Asahi,” he said. “That helped.”

“Any time, Daichi.”

“But you should go wipe tables before you get in trouble,” Daichi said.

“I’m not going to get in trouble!” Asahi cried, nerves edging into his voice. Daichi just chuckled and went back to his work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm writing this by the seat of my pants, so I have been going back and making edits to the previous chapters. Most of them are tiny, nitpicky grammar things, and no big deal, but I did do a timeline fix, albeit a subtle one. Last chapter, Iwaizumi implied that they were near midterms, and I changed that so that they're near finals. I'm also going by the Japanese university calendar, fyi, even if a bunch of other stuff doesn't culturally check out. :P This takes place in the end of their first semester of grad school.
> 
> Come join me on [Tumblr](http://amairylle.tumblr.com)!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "How about this," Hanamaki offered, his wicked smirk visible in his eyes alone. "You tell us what happened, and we'll tell you more about Suga." Kindaichi, Kunimi, Kyoutani, and Yahaba all copied his smirk and leaned in, bold and threatening. Daichi hadn’t known Kunimi had it in him.
> 
> In Daichi's third year of high school, when Karasuno made it to nationals, the crow metaphor followed them everywhere. Their play style favored constant attacks and made them highly effective, even against larger, more powerful teams. People likened it to a bunch of smaller birds mobbing a larger one, turning predator into prey. Being one of the attackers was exhilarating, but being the prey was terrifying, Daichi realized all of a sudden. He started to sweat.

Suga didn’t have a Facebook. It was so unfair.

If he was being honest, Daichi was ambivalent at best about Facebook; maintaining it was a chore, but he did admit that it was great for stalking friends of friends without being overtly creepy. Except that Daichi couldn’t find anyone with “Sugawara” or “Suga” in their name on Iwaizumi’s friends list, and none of the profile pictures looked similar, either.

More than unfair, it was deeply confusing. If Suga was friends—close friends—with Iwaizumi, then he had to be friends with Oikawa as well. There was no way that Oikawa, the Great Social Media King, would have let any friend of his get away with not having a Facebook profile. And yet, Suga didn’t have one.

Daichi’s next option, texting Iwaizumi, was harder than he’d thought. He’d tried several times to just be up front about everything, but instead he’d chickened out.

> [To: Iwaizumi Hajime:]
> 
> [6:17 PM] Hey, how’s studying treating you?
> 
> [6:23 PM] Want to go get some food and mope about Washio-sensei’s final?

Even with another week to spare before finals actually started, Iwaizumi didn’t pick up his phone. Daichi couldn’t help but wonder if Iwaizumi would respond if Daichi were more direct, but he just couldn’t do it. It would be better to tell him in person—at least, that’s how Daichi was justifying it to himself.

So, in an effort to see Suga again, Daichi had been going back to the diner every night, trying to convince himself that it was fine, he studied there. He’d studied there ever since he came to college. In the same booth, every time.

On Wednesday, the bulb in Daichi’s booth burnt out. It made Daichi feel even more like a stalker.

“We have other, less creepy booths,” Asahi pointed out after Daichi complained.

“This one’s mine, though,” Daichi replied, pouting. “I’ve been using it for years.”

Asahi laughed at him. “We don’t get new lightbulbs until next Monday.”

By that Friday, Daichi still had not found Suga. Facebook was a waste, Iwaizumi still hadn’t answered his texts, and Suga still hadn’t shown up to the diner. In addition, the distraction was really getting in the way of studying for finals—it was hard to focus on his coursework when Suga’s face came to mind every few minutes. Daichi was antsy and irritable, so he made himself take a break.

Friday nights were Daichi’s karaoke nights. He’d started them his sophomore year as a way to unwind and make sure he saw his friends at least once a week in a context that wasn’t work or practice. Which friends he saw, however, rotated on a four-week cycle. There was a week for his current university team, a week for the former Karasuno team, a week for former Captains and Vices from when he was in his third year of high school, and a week for his friends in the medical program. Those labels were fairly accurate, too, with the exception of the week when Daichi went to karaoke with his current volleyball team. First of all, Daichi had quit volleyball when he graduated—med school didn’t leave enough time for volleyball. They also never managed to attract anyone younger than Kageyama, who was now a junior, to join them for karaoke (even though there were definitely players on the team now that were). In addition, Iwaizumi, Oikawa, and Daichi all still showed up, along with Matsukawa, Hanamaki, and Kunimi, who had never even played on the college team. Really, the group was less “Daichi’s university team” and more “the statistically unlikely quantity of Seijoh and Karasuno alumni that ended up at Tokai University regardless of whether they played on the volleyball team or not.” It was always a good time, so Daichi was particularly frustrated that he was going to be showing up in such a bad mood.

“Cheer up,” Asahi said to Daichi as they rounded the corner closest to the karaoke place. “He always comes in during my shift. My boss says I’ve never missed him, and I’m off tonight.”

Daichi’s frown grew even deeper.

“Stop that,” Asahi scolded gently. “He knows I’m taken. He just thinks I make better milkshakes.”

Daichi snorted. “Don’t let Noya hear you say that,” he said. “You’ll never hear the end of it.”

“Hear the end of what?” As if on cue, Noya opened the door to the karaoke place and walked out to meet them. He brushed past Daichi to kiss Asahi hello. “You guys are late,” he said when he finished. “Everyone else is upstairs already. They sent me down to wait for you since we’re not in our usual room. They also probably took all the good spots.”

“That’s ok,” Daichi shrugged, “I don’t think I want a good spot this week.”

“Oooooh?” Noya was suddenly in his face. “You still moping about your crush?”

Daichi glared at Asahi. “Of course you told him.”

“I didn’t tell him who it was?” Asahi replied, sshrinking.

“Yeah!” Noya interjected. “And my life would be a lot more exciting if I knew! C’mon, Daichi-san!”

“Later,” Daichi said, pushing them both inside.

“Will you at least tell me what I’d tease Asahi about?”

Asahi squeaked in protest. Daichi considered it. “No,” he said, finally, “But I do have a song request for later.”

Noya cackled, and Asahi wilted. “I can’t wait,” Noya said.

Upstairs, Daichi’s former teammates (and the usual extras) had indeed taken all the good spots. Daichi looked around, making a subconscious headcount before he could stop himself. Yahaba was singing some frothy pop song that Daichi didn’t recognize, while Hinata, Kageyama, and Kyoutani were bickering over the songbook. Tsukishima was sitting in a corner with his arm around Yamaguchi, who was chatting animatedly with Kunimi and Yachi. Kindaichi sat alone, flipping through the food menu. Noya instantly joined Kindaichi, and Asahi followed. Daichi frowned. They were missing quite a few people. Oikawa’s pro team probably had an away game, Iwaizumi was undoubtedly studying, and Shimizu was at a conference, which left…

“Where are Mattsun and Makki?” Daichi asked the room.

“Sick,” various voices chorused back.

Daichi frowned. “With what?”

“Mono, apparently,” Kindaichi replied.

“They’ve been very whiny in the group chat,” Kunimi added.

Daichi pulled out his phone. “I didn’t get anything,” he said.

“There’s like, four group chats,” Yahaba said as the music ended, passing the mic to Hinata. “You’re not in all of them, Daichi-san.”

“Count yourself lucky for that,” Tsukishima said in a voice that sounded like a whisper, but was clearly meant to be heard.

The resulting squabble took Daichi a good five minutes to break up, but after that, they settled fairly easily into their usual routine: Noya ate all the fried chicken, Kyoutani, Hinata and Tsukishima each got into at least two almost-fights—usually with each other—and Yachi and Yamaguchi, once convinced to take the mic, once again amazed everyone with their incredible duets. The only difference in the routine was Daichi spending far less time than normal singing. He wasn’t as good at he’d hoped at shaking his bad mood and had to fend off his well-meaning teammates all night as a result. It was almost a relief when Hanamaki showed up with a bunch of grocery bags, even if Hanamaki wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place.

“You’re sick,” Daichi said in lieu of a proper greeting. “Go home.”

“I’m offended,” Hanamaki replied, his voice muffled slightly by a face mask. “I came all the way out here to say hi, and you immediately tell me to leave. I’m wounded. Terribly hurt. I’ll never be the same again.”

“No one wants your germs, you melodramatic fuck,” Yahaba replied. Everyone laughed.

“Seriously though,” Kunimi said, “Why are you even here, senpai? Go home.”

Hanamaki plopped down onto the couch next to Tsukishima, who immediately recoiled and scooted away. “Rude,” Hanamaki said. “I’m here because we ran out of food, and Issei still can’t walk farther than the bathroom without either falling asleep or complaining that he wants to die.  Plus, it’s almost midnight and this place is between our apartment and the nearest 24 hour convenience store.” He sighed. “Mono sucks, don’t get it.”

“We’re doing our best, and yet, here you are,” Tsukishima said.

“I will lick you,” Hanamaki threatened. Tsukishima recoiled further.

“Why didn’t you call one of us? We’d have brought you stuff,” Daichi cut in, before Tsukishima and Hanamaki could really get going.

“I tried,” Hanamaki said. “Check your phones, assholes.”

The whole room pulled phones out of pants pockets and off of tables.

“I don’t see anything,” Noya said. There were murmurs of agreement.

“Really?” Hanamaki said. “Then which group chat did I text?” he pulled out his phone and grimaced. “The Seijoh third years one. Go me. No wonder Iwaizumi told me to get fucked.”

“How many messages did you send?” Yahaba asked.

“Thirty-seven.”

“Wow,” Daichi said. “It’s two weeks before exams. You’re lucky he didn’t kill you.”

"Tell me about it," Hanamaki replied. He leaned back into the couch. "I'm too tired to walk, so is it cool if I hang here for a bit while you all just kind of…party around me?"

"We can call you a cab," Asahi said.

Hanamaki shook his head. "It's fine. I just need a minute."

"Dude, please leave. You look like shit," Noya added. Hanamaki flipped him the bird.

"Actually," Daichi said. "Before you go…" He paused. Admitting to his crush in front of basically his entire group of friends was asking for trouble, but Hanamaki and Iwaizumi were pretty close…

"You look constipated, Daichi," Hanamaki said. "Spit it out."

Daichi took a deep breath. "Do you, by any chance, know anyone named Sugawara? Tall, silver hair, goes by Suga?"

"Oh, Suga-senpai!" Hinata cut in.

Daichi's turned his head to gape at his kouhai so fast that he felt his neck crack. _"You_ know Suga?"

"He's pretty well-known," Hinata said. There were nods of agreement around the whole group. "He was my physics TA, and probably half the reason Kageyama and I passed that class."

"Oh," Daichi said. "Do you know anything else about him?"

Hinata considered the question for a moment. "He's a really good teacher, and he's still here for grad school, and he's still a physics TA. I think one of the new freshman is in his section."

"He was a double major," Noya cut in. "Engineering and D—" his eyes widened. "D… don't remember. I don't remember. Sorry Daichi."

Daichi followed Noya's eyes just in time to see Hanamaki stop shaking his head. He frowned, glaring at Hanamaki. "What was his other major." It wasn't a question.

Hanamaki laughed, but was able to pass it off as a convincing cough.

"Wait a second,” Noya said. “Daichi, could it be that Suga-san is the crush Asahi told me about?" Noya was barely holding back the full force of his amusement.

"No," Daichi denied gruffly. He could feel his blush betray him.

The room descended into cacophony as Daichi's former Karasuno team all leaned in to demand details. Daichi honestly should have seen this coming and cornered Hanamaki for details alone. What had truly surprised him, however, was the indecipherable look that passed between the members of the former Seijoh team. It both surprised and worried him.

"Oh man," Hinata screeched, audible only because the volume and still-somehow-high pitch of his voice won out over everyone else’s. "Oh man, Daichi-san, this is so exciting! You have to tell us everything."

"No." Daichi said, attempting to end it there. Everyone whined.

"How about this," Hanamaki offered, his wicked smirk visible in his eyes alone. "You tell us what happened, and we'll tell you more about Suga." Kindaichi, Kunimi, Kyoutani, and Yahaba all copied his smirk and leaned in, bold and threatening. Daichi hadn’t known Kunimi had it in him.

In Daichi's third year of high school, when Karasuno made it to nationals, the crow metaphor followed them everywhere. Their play style favored constant attacks and made them highly effective, even against larger, more powerful teams. People likened it to a bunch of smaller birds mobbing a larger one, turning predator into prey. Being one of the attackers was exhilarating, but being the prey was terrifying, Daichi realized all of a sudden. He started to sweat. "It's ok," he said, his voice shaky. "I think I'm good."

"I can tell that you're asking because you're desperate," Hanamaki said. He was right.

Daichi grimaced. "Fine," He said. "I ran into him the other day when I was trying to go see Michimiya. He was cute, I was flustered, and neither of us have each other's numbers. Are you happy?"

"Apparently Daichi-san didn't even give out his name!" Noya chirped.

Daichi leveled his best Captain's glare at Noya and Asahi. Asahi blanched, and they both reflexively scooted backwards.

"You can't make me do extra conditioning as revenge anymore!" Noya said, his voice shaky. "You're not on the team anymore!"

"I will find a way." Daichi promised through gritted teeth. He could see Asahi and Noya's twin gulps of fear.

"Is that all we're getting out of you?" Hanamaki asked.

Daichi glared, but it was really more of a pout. "Give me a good reason to say more."

Hanamaki gestured to the rest of the group. “Go ahead,” he said.

"Since when are you captain?" Kageyama asked. Yahaba smacked him.

"So he's a double major, and a physics TA," Kunimi said. “What else…"

"He's a better TA than Hanamaki," Kindaichi said.

Hanamaki gasped theatrically. “Betrayed by my own kouhai!”

“He’s really friendly,” Yamaguchi said, finally adding something Daichi didn’t already know. “Really outgoing. It’s kind of a shock you haven’t met him before, because it seems like most of the campus knows him. He’s really active in—” Yamaguchi shot a glance toward Hanamaki, seemingly asking for permission, “—his extracurriculars.”

Daichi frowned. “And what would those be?” He asked.

“I can’t remember, Daichi-san, sorry.” Yamaguchi shook his head, his voice growing high-pitched with the force of the lie.

“This is mutiny,” Daichi grumbled. “Why the hell are you all—” he gestured at his former Karasuno team “—listening to him?” He pointed at Hanamaki, who snickered.

“Entertainment value,” Tsukishima said, matter-of-factly.

Daichi stared at him in shock. “Are you serious?”

“That, and Iwaizumi-san’s scarier than you,” Hinata added, and then clapped his hands over his mouth like he hadn’t meant to say that.

Daichi let his head drop into his hands. “Betrayed by my own kouhai,” he muttered.

“Well,” Yachi said. The room fell quiet around her. “I think you guys are being rude and really unreasonable.” She put her hands on her hips and glared at Hanamaki. “Why is it so damned important that we not tell him anyway?”

“Yacchan said ‘damned,’” Hinata said, in an awed voice.

Hanamaki looked between Yachi and Daichi, and sighed. “Sawamura,” he said, “what do you want with Suga anyway?”

Daichi tried not to blush, and failed. “I thought it was obvious by now,” he said.

“No, like, is all you want a one-night stand? Because if that’s the case, I’ll tell you everything you want to know. I’ll even give you his phone number, right here, right now.”

Daichi fidgeted under the weight of Hanamaki’s gaze. "Um, I'm not sure yet," he said.

"Gimme something to go off, then. What did you notice."

"Now I know you're just here to see me suffer."

"Don't get me wrong, Sawamura," Hanamaki said, shaking a finger at Daichi, "I'm enjoying every second of this. That doesn't mean I don't have actual, legitimate reasons for doing this."

Daichi sighed. "Do I get to know what those are, at least?"

Hanamaki shook his head. "Absolutely not. Now, one thing. Come on," he coaxed as if Daichi was a reluctant pet or student. "It's not hard. Just trust me."

"As far as I can throw you," Daichi replied. But in spite of himself, he thought back to the night a week prior, trying to identify what stood out to him. Suga was gorgeous, yeah, and he’d been thinking about his face a lot. But his beauty hadn’t been the only thing captivating Daichi for the past week. The grace in his movements was one. The kindness in his voice (even as he’d teased Daichi mercilessly) was another. The way he kept almost falling off the balcony to be closer to Daichi struck him, as well. But what stuck out the most— "His laugh," Daichi said, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper, blush high and pink on his cheeks. It was melodious and joyful. Beautiful. "I want to make him laugh like that again."

Hanamaki coughed. “Well,” he said, sounding kind of strangled, “if that’s the case, then you’ll have to deal with some meddling.”

Daichi looked around the room in shock. Half his team was staring at him, wide-eyed, and the other half was failing to make eye contact, turning away from him to hide their snickers in hands or shoulders. “Wait, no, I mean—” Daichi stuttered.

“Did you forget we were here Daichi-san?,” Noya asked, guffawing.

"Are people supposed to get that pink?" Kageyama whispered to Hinata, who smacked him.

Daichi choked.

Hanamaki chuckled. “It’s ok, Daichi, I definitely didn’t text that to Oikawa for blackmail material.”

“If you weren’t sick, I’d punch you,” Daichi replied.

“Yeah, but I am.” Hanamaki said. He then yawned, said sickness catching up to him. “Actually, would you mind calling me a cab? I think my body just realized it could be asleep right now.”

Daichi nodded, pulling out his phone.

“Actually,” Hanamaki said, “You should wait with me, Daichi. Groceries are heavy, and my noodle arms are weak.”

“Fine.” Daichi picked up the bags and stepped into the hallway to make the call. When he hung up, Hanamaki was standing behind him, practically half-asleep. “If you pass out on me, I’m not carrying you home,” he said.

“After everything I’ve done for you?” He said, his mirth visible in his eyes even though his mouth was covered. “I’m not gonna pass out, though. I have more to say.”

“Oh?” Daichi said, leading him out to the street.

“Look,” Hanamaki said, suddenly serious. “Suga’s special. Really special. And that means Iwaizumi and Oikawa are probably going to want to feel you out before they let you talk to him.”

“Feel me ou— I’ve known them both for five years!” Daichi squawked.

“Doesn’t matter.” Hanamaki said. “Iwaizumi is going to want to be in on this even if he doesn’t give you the third degree—which he probably won’t since—you're right—he has known you for five years. But if he does, film it for me? It’ll be priceless.”

“You’re the worst.”

“It takes more than that to hurt my feelings; I went to high school with Oikawa.”

Daichi glared at him, then sighed, looking away. “I could tell.”

“Hmm?”

“That he’s special.”

“Mmmm.” Hanamaki stared into the middle distance. “I’ll take pity on you,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Daichi asked.

“You embarrassed the shit out of yourself in front of basically all your friends, just to find out if I knew anything about some guy. That takes guts. I respect that.”

“How is this pitying me?”

“I’m going to give you more information.”

Daichi felt his heart speed up. He gave up on not trying to look desperate.

“He’s really something to see when he’s truly in his element,” Hanamaki said. “He’s incredibly good at what he does—no, I’m not going to tell you exactly what that is, Iwaizumi will kill me. Stop making that face. He’s so good at what he does that it kind of permeates every aspect of his life.”

“You’re using some big words in that poetry.”

“Sawamura, I will stop talking.” The look Hanamaki threw at him was intense. “I can be romantic when I want to be.” He could be vindictive, too. “It’s not my fault that I’m dating someone who doesn’t appreciate it.”

Daichi shut up.

“He’s also really popular. Doing that many extracurriculars makes you well-known, yeah, but he’s really kind, too. Being around him just makes you feel warm.”

Daichi stared. “Sounds like you had a crush on him.”

“Who didn’t?” Hanamaki laughed. “He’s kind of like Iwaizumi like that, except that the effect went far beyond the Seijoh volleyball team. He actually got more confessions than Oikawa, back in the day.”

“Holy shit, is that possible?” Daichi had vivid memories of Oikawa’s fanclub, even if he’d only seen it from a distance.

Hanamaki’s eyes glinted, slightly feral. “Well, Oikawa only got half the girls,” he said. “Suga got the rest. And all the boys.”

Daichi swallowed, suitably awed and intimidated. “Did he accept?”

“Oh look,” Hanamaki said, pointedly ignoring the question, “There’s the cab.” It pulled up the the curb in front of them.

“Makki—” Daichi reached after him, but—

“Thanks for calling me a lift.” Hanamaki pulled the door open and—

“Makki you can’t just—”

“Sorry I couldn’t say for longer!” he took the groceries from Daichi’s limp fingers and tossed them inside.

“Makki don’t leave me like this!”

“Bye Daichi! Have fun!” Hanamaki slammed the door shut behind him. The car pulled away, but the sound of Hanamaki’s cackling still hung in the air, torturing Daichi long after the car turned the corner and disappeared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge, huge thank you to everyone reading and reviewing!!! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this as much as I am, and your comments make me so happy. I love you guys.
> 
> [Priin](http://priintaniere.tumblr.com/) did art for chapter one, by the way!!!! It's perfect and beautiful and also hilarious, because this is inspired by a piece of her fanart to begin with. I love it (and her!) so much, and you can [see it here.](http://priintaniere-archive.tumblr.com/post/160672755317/please-do-not-repostedituse-without-my)
> 
> Come join me on [Tumblr](http://amairylle.tumblr.com) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/amairylle)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The door to the diner opened, its bells chiming.
> 
> “For fuck’s sake, Iwa, why do you have to be so damned stubborn? We’re already here.”
> 
> Three thoughts passed through Daichi’s head at lightning speed: _Iwa? What if it’s Iwaizumi?_ followed by, _Don’t be stupid, Daichi, it’s a big campus. There might be other people here with Iwa in their names. Plus, Iwaizumi’s unfortunate nickname is “Iwa_ -chan,” _not just “Iwa,”_ and finally, _Oh. Oh no._

Saturday night found Daichi at the diner again because it was the week before finals and his exams weren't going to pass themselves. He _definitely_ wasn’t hoping anything would happen while he was there. He was _absolutely_ only there to figure out how the hell he was going to pass his pathology exam. He _certainly wasn’t_ checking his phone every few minutes to see if Iwaizumi had texted him back. 

> [To: Iwaizumi Hajime]
> 
> [15 Jul, 11:30 PM] You wouldn’t happen to know a guy named Sugawara, would you?

It had been a full day and still nothing. Daichi was almost desperate enough to call, but still hadn’t decided if he wanted to deal with the repercussions: Iwaizumi got spectacularly angry when his studying was interrupted, and a text could be ignored. A call could not. A call would have consequences.

Daichi stuffed his phone into his backpack and went back to his notes. He read the same sentence four times, realized it, and swore under his breath. It had been a while since he’d had a crush, and never one this hopeless. He pulled his phone out of his backpack and checked it again. No new messages. He let his head drop onto the table and groaned.

“Doing alright?” Asahi had walked over sometime while Daichi was fidgeting.

“I’m really pathetic,” Daichi replied.

“I can’t argue with you there,” Asahi said, chuckling.

Daichi picked up his head just enough to glare at Asahi. Asahi laughed at him again.

He refilled Daichi’s coffee. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“There’s not much to say that I didn’t already spit out in front of everyone last night,” Daichi groaned.

“Oh, come on,” Asahi consoled him, “You’ve embarrassed yourself far worse before.”

“You know, I’m not sure I have.”

“Okay, _I’ve_ embarrassed myself far worse before.”

Daichi considered this. “Somehow, that doesn’t make me feel better,” he said. “You’re not the captain.”

Asahi sighed. “Technically, neither are you. And an unflappable demeanor isn’t a requirement for being captain anyway. Look at Oikawa.”

Daichi snorted. “He wouldn’t be able to recognize ‘level-headed’ even if you shoved it up his nose.” He shoved his phone in his backpack again, sighing. “I still feel pathetic though. I can’t focus because I keep thinking about him, and I feel like a stalker just waiting here for him to maybe show up.”

“You’re studying, though,” Asahi said. “You always study here.”

“Yeah, but I’m not,” Daichi replied. “I’m _trying,_ but I’ve barely gotten any work done.”

“You can always leave?” Asahi suggested cautiously. “You could try and study at home?”

Daichi looked at Asahi as if he’d just suggested that Daichi cut off his own right arm and hit himself with it. Asahi scuttled backwards a few steps, bumping into another table.

“I— I mean, if waiting for Suga is that distracting, then maybe you’d focus better someplace else?” Asahi supplied.

Daichi face-planted into the table again. “I’m pretty sure I could hop on a flight to France and have him be a whole continent away, and I’d still find him distracting.”

Asahi snorted. When Daichi looked up, Asahi pointedly looked away. His shoulders shook from the laughter.

“You’re not helping.” Daichi said.

“Sorry, sorry!” Asahi replied. “I’m just not sure what I should do. Is there anything?”

“It seems like not.” Daichi groaned. “I’ll let you know if I think of something, though.”

Asahi patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Yell if you need me, ok? I have dishes that I need to do, so I’ll be back in the kitchen. The sound carries pretty well though, so I should be able to hear you.” He fidgeted with his apron string for a moment. “To be honest, you come here often enough that you could just walk back into the kitchen without getting either of us in trouble so, you know, if you really need me…”

“Thanks, Asahi.” Daichi said. “It means a lot, really.”

Asahi brightened.

“I think I’m going to try and work now, though,” Daichi added, switching to a different textbook. Hopefully that would help him focus

“Good luck, then,” Asahi replied. “Sorry for distracting you.”

“You didn’t distract me,” Daichi grumbled, turning back to his work.

Asahi ducked back into the kitchen after giving him a smile, leaving Daichi alone with his work and his thoughts. Thoughts of Suga. Daichi glared at his textbook, willing it to be more interesting than his stupid, stupid crush. But the text remained dry and uninteresting—it had no hope of competing with a real person, let alone someone so charismatic. Still, Daichi had to try, even if trying meant reading the same sentence over and over in the hopes of the information sticking. Over, and over, and over.

Daichi went to bash his head against the table again. The door to the diner opened, its bells chiming.

“For fuck’s sake, Iwa, why do you have to be so damned stubborn? We’re already here.”

Three thoughts passed through Daichi’s head at lightning speed: _Iwa?_ _What if it’s Iwaizumi?_ followed by, _Don’t be stupid, Daichi, it’s a big campus. There might be other people here with Iwa in their names. Plus, Iwaizumi’s unfortunate nickname is “Iwa-chan,” not just “Iwa,”_ and finally, _Oh. Oh no._

From over the tops of the booths, Daichi could see a very disgruntled Iwaizumi getting dragged through the diner doors by a very, very determined Suga. Iwaizumi had clearly been interrupted from studying—he was still in a t-shirt that Daichi knew he slept in, courtesy of training camp, and his face wore a unique expression of incandescent rage. He was clinging to the doorframe. Suga had a foot braced against the wall, trying to use the leverage to yank him through.

“I said I was busy,” Iwaizumi spat.

“You’ve… already… lost!” Suga replied, huffing.

“I haven’t lost until we get inside!” Iwaizumi shot back.

Across the diner, one of the other servers sighed at the spectacle and stuck her head into the kitchen. “Azumane!” she called, “The idiots are here again!”

Iwaizumi looked over to glare at her, clearly offended. Daichi could see the muscle in his jaw twitch from all the way across the room. Suga took advantage of Iwaizumi’s distraction and gave his arm a hard yank, forcing him forward. With a pair of yells—indignant from Iwaizumi and triumphant from Suga—the two toppled to the floor.

“Good evening,” Asahi shuffled towards them. “Table for two?”

“No,” Iwaizumi said petulantly. “I have to study.”

“I cannot _believe_ that you keep trying to convince me that Kawa and I are children,” Suga said. “You’re in the diner. By your own admission, you’ve lost.”

“My foot isn’t in the door. It doesn’t count.”

“Iwa, come _on!”_

_“Fine!”_

The two of them stood back up, visible again above the tops of the booths. Suga immediately darted behind Iwaizumi, standing between him and the exit. “Good evening,” Suga said cheerfully to Asahi. “Is our table free?”

“Right this way,” Asahi replied, not missing a beat.

“Their table” was slightly across the restaurant from Daichi, close enough that he could still hear them bickering without feeling like he was deliberately eavesdropping. Suga sat with his back to Daichi, and Daichi wasn’t sure whether he was sad about that or not.

“Meat and vegetables,” Suga told Iwaizumi, as they both looked over the menu.

“I’m getting pancakes and you can’t stop me.”

“Iwa, you’ve spent the past week living off cup ramen and Red Bull,” Suga scolded. “Your iron levels are probably crying. Please get something with at least two food groups.”

Iwaizumi pouted. Never had Daichi seen a pout so menacing. “What if I don’t want to?”

“Iwa, oh my god.”

Daichi had to bite his fist to keep from laughing out loud. He’d never seen Iwaizumi like this; Oikawa was always the problem child. Across the restaurant, he could see Asahi busying himself with something, pointedly keeping his back to them. His shoulders were shaking with barely-restrained laughter. Daichi wanted to ask if they were always like this, but Asahi never had his phone on him during work, and there was no other way to get Asahi’s attention without letting Iwaizumi and Suga know he was there, and he didn’t want to learn what Iwaizumi was like when he was angry and embarrassed.

“Maybe I _like_ living off cup ramen and Red Bull,” Iwaizumi said.

“How are you okay with being this unhealthy?” Suga cried. “You’re a med student. You know this isn’t okay.”

“What are you, my mother?”

Suga laughed. Daichi’s heart skipped a beat.

“Of course not,” Suga replied. “I just think it’s funny that out of the three of us, I can barely cook and still eat healthier than the two of you combined.”

“Okay first of all,” Iwaizumi leaned forward, shaking an indignant finger at Suga, “cooking takes effort, and I don’t want to right now. Second of all, med school is harder than undergrad, and exams suck so much more.” He paused, forcing his face into an even angrier glare. “Third, if you don’t stop mocking me _right now_ I will walk out of this diner, so help me.”

“Oh look,” Suga said, breezy and unconcerned. “They have french toast as a special tonight.”

“What? Where?” Iwaizumi replied, instantly dropping his anger to finally look through the menu.

When the two stopped bickering, Daichi stopped listening and started to compose what he’d say to Suga when he finally went over to speak to him. An introduction was probably a good start; Daichi didn’t want to embarrass himself again. However, Iwaizumi was still clearly tense, and presented a formidable obstacle. It would probably be best to let Iwaizumi eat first; hungry Iwaizumi wasn’t a character that Daichi really wanted to deal with personally.

“Get strawberries,” Suga said. “Add some fruit, at the very least.”

“How about chocolate chips and no?”

Daichi spent some time alternating between staring at the back of Suga’s head and ducking behind his laptop so that Iwaizumi wouldn’t see him. Asahi came back and took their orders, then came back out to wipe tables while they cooked. It took Daichi a few minutes to realize it, but the tables that Asahi was wiping were ones he’d already cleaned. He was also pointedly not meeting any of Daichi’s questioning glances. That asshole.

“Hey Asahi-san!” Suga’s voice startled Daichi out of his one-sided staring contest. “The playlist is really good tonight!”

Asahi jumped and knocked over a pepper shaker. “Uh, thanks! I’m glad you like it.”

Asahi was, by all accounts, a very good server, but his anxiety still got the best of him sometimes. He’d used music to cope with it for as long as Daichi had known him. Asahi’s boss had found out about the music about a month after Asahi had started working there and, because she liked him so much, had let Asahi make playlists for the shifts he worked. It wouldn’t normally be allowed, but if Asahi could keep calm, he was excellent at his job. Plus, Asahi worked late shifts, so it didn’t matter if the diner wasn’t playing thematically appropriate music.

Daichi thought that Asahi’s playlists were actually better than the diner’s usual music—soft, melodic pieces fit the diner’s late-night atmosphere better than the American Oldies that the diner owner favored during the daytime. Apparently, Suga agreed. He started fidgeting in his seat, moving his hands to the melody. It was cute. It was really, really cute.Asahi smiled when he noticed. “You’ll really like the next one,” he told Suga as the current song started to wind down.

“Really?” Suga asked. “Is it alright if I…?”

“Go on, Antsywara,” Iwaizumi said. “You won’t bother anyone.”

Asahi nodded in agreement. “It’s fine,” he said.

“Thank you!” Grinning brightly, Suga hopped up from the booth and stood between the tables, posing gracefully: his head and shoulders tilted slightly, one arm outstretched, one foot poised above the ground, awaiting motion. “Film me for Instagram, will you Iwa?” The song stopped, then changed, filling the diner with a soft synth line and a swing beat.

_“He’s really something to see when he’s truly in his element.”_ Hanamaki’s words from the previous night came to mind as Suga started to move. Daichi had been assuming that “his element” meant teaching or physics or something similar. He’d never been so wrong about something in his life.

As the song started, Suga began to sway, getting a feel for the melody. His hands made similar delicate movements, growing larger and more assured as the song picked up. He shifted back and forth on his feet, before gently hopping into a sequence of more complicated steps.

He was dancing. It took Daichi an embarrassingly long time to gather enough coherent thought to realize. Suga was a dancer. Suga was a _really skilled_ dancer, more so than Daichi was able to fully appreciate. Was it an improvised dance? Suga’s movements were as fluid and comfortable, his steps as precise as if he’d practiced the moves for months. But the way Asahi had talked about the song made Daichi sure Suga'd never heard it before...

Suga began making wider circles through the diner, his motions becoming more intricate. The larger stage brought him closer to Daichi’s table, and when he ended up facing Daichi after a series of turns, Daichi’s heart almost stopped. Suga’s eyes were almost fully closed, a light flush on his cheeks and a relaxed, happy smile on his lips. Then the electric violin swelled and he spun back across the diner, skipping and pirouetting between the tables. Daichi felt his mouth fall open and his cheeks warm, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Suga was so incredible. Daichi was so fucked.

The song wound down, the instruments falling out of the melody line in the same order as they joined, and Suga’s movements matched. His path narrowed, his motions took up less space, until all that was left was the last piano line and the elegant flicking of Suga’s wrist. He held the ending pose until the music faded into the next song. “Did you get all of it?” he asked Iwaizumi.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replied, lowering his phone. “I’ll send it to you later.”

“Thanks Iwa!” Suga replied, finally dropping his arms and sliding back into the booth.

Asahi chose that moment to bring Iwaizumi and Suga their food. Daichi let his head fall to the table, trying desperately to calm his racing heart. Just when he thought that he’d succeeded, his phone buzzed. He almost knocked his textbook off the table. 

> [From: Iwaizumi Hajime]
> 
> [10:48 PM] Sugawara? You know, I just might.

Daichi’s head snapped up. Iwaizumi met his eyes from across the diner, his smile feral.

“Don’t make that face, Iwa,” Suga said. “It’s creepy.”

“Sorry,” Iwaizumi replied. “I’m plotting.”

“I know you’re plotting. It’s your plotting face. But the only thing that’s worth plotting about is Kawa’s birthday this week, and I had better already be in on those plans.”

Wait, Iwaizumi had a plotting face? Oh no.

Iwaizumi made a noncommittal noise and went back to scrolling through his phone. His smile only grew wider.

“You’re making me nervous,” Suga said.

“Hey Asahi,” Iwaizumi said, pointedly ignoring Suga, “Do you want to hear what happened to Stupidwara last weekend?”

“Iwa, no," Suga yelped, _"please.”_

Daichi paled. He knew exactly what happened to Suga last weekend. He was there.

“Oh? What happened?” Asahi asked innocently enough.

Suga groaned. “Please don’t.”

Iwaizumi ignored Suga’s pleas. “He somehow managed to embarrass himself in front of a hot guy without even leaving the house.”

“I thought Oikawa didn’t count,” Asahi replied, smoother than Daichi had expected.

The other two chuckled. “He doesn’t,” Suga said. “It was someone else.”

“Some guy came up and tried to serenade our neighbor, but she wasn’t home,” Iwaizumi added. “Dofuswara was, though.”

“Oh?” Asahi said. Daichi could see him start to fidget uncomfortably. He willed Asahi not to give anything away.

Suga let out an unhappy whine. “I was grading when he came by. I can’t believe I—“ he cut himself off with a groan. “He was so hot,” he finished.

Wait, what?

“He had a really nice face, and sculpted forearms and deadly thighs.” Suga sighed dreamily. “His voice too. His voice was incredible. Rich and deep… I could fall asleep in it.”

Daichi was worried that if he touched his own cheeks, the blush would burn him.

“So uh,” Asahi coughed and cleared his throat, “what was his name?”

“I don’t know!” Suga all but sobbed. “He didn’t introduce himself.”

“That hasn’t stopped you from going on and on about ‘Musician-san’ all week,” Iwaizumi said, smirking.

“Leave me to die.”

“Well, I uh,” Asahi stammered. “Do you uh, do you know what he looked like? Maybe I could help.”

Daichi let out a tiny choked noise.

“No,” Suga mourned. “I was drinking and it was dark. I know that I liked his face, but I couldn’t tell you anything specific about it. He had brown hair, and his eyes were probably dark, but that doesn’t narrow it down much.”

“Ah,” Asahi said. “Nothing really stuck out to you then?”

“I mean, his thighs and his voice were pretty memorable,” Suga repeated. “But those aren’t usually the characteristics people mean when they ask for a description.” He paused for a moment, running a hand through his gloriously fluffy hair. “I guess he seemed kind of familiar?”

“Really?” Asahi squeaked.

Suga turned and gave Asahi a suspicious look. “What do you mean by that?”

“What do you mean by what?” Asahi asked, voice still high-pitched.

“That tone.”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing!” Asahi looked away, thankfully not at Daichi. “I’m not saying anything else,” he said.

“Hmmph, fine,” Suga said, letting his suspicious stare drop. He sighed. “It’s not like his face being familiar tells me anything either. Most of the campus falls into that category anyway. And narrowing it down to ‘has a familiar face and killer thighs’ doesn’t help either. I’ve been to too many sports parties. And no one sings at the sports parties, so that doesn’t help me at all.”

It especially didn’t help because Daichi didn’t go to the sports parties. Daichi wasn’t really a party person unless karaoke was involved.

“It’s okay though,” Iwaizumi added, dropping the plot entirely. His smile became relaxed and easy, his eyes full of mirth. “I know who he is.”

You could hear a pin drop in the diner. Daichi felt his soul leave his body.

“You _what?!”_ Suga screeched. “ _Why didn’t you tell me?”_

Iwaizumi shrugged. “I only figured it out a few minutes ago.”

“You said you would tell me!”

“And I did. Just now.”

Suga huffed. “Fine. Who is he?”

Iwaizumi leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms smugly. “I’m not telling you,” he said.

A beat. “Iwa, _why?”_ Suga cried. “I’ve been dying over him for a week!”

“Because you interrupted me when I was in the middle of studying,” Iwaizumi replied airily.

_“Why does the unacceptable fact that you’ve been living of Red Bull and cup ramen for a week have anything to do with my pathetic love life???”_

Asahi backed away from the growing argument while Daichi laughed at and bemoaned the situation in equal measure. Angry, indignant Suga was adorable, but Daichi wasn’t sure how to talk to him now. He couldn’t gauge whether Suga would be happy to see him or embarrassed that he’d overheard.

“Don’t worry,” Iwaizumi said. His words were placating, but his tone still teased. “He’ll be at Terp.”

“He will?” Suga perked up, excited and hopeful.

Wait, he would? Daichi didn’t understand. He pulled out his phone. 

> [To: Iwaizumi Hajime]
> 
> [10:54 PM] What is Terp?
> 
> [10:54 PM] Where is it?

“Yeah.” Iwazumi’s eyes met Daichi’s. “He had better be.”

Daichi did not miss the threat behind his words. He picked his phone back up.

> [To: Iwaizumi Hajime]
> 
> [10:55 PM] Look, I’ll be there but I’ve never gone and I don’t know what it is
> 
> [10:56 PM] Why are you like this

“Can I have his number? A _name?”_ Suga prodded.

“No.” Iwaizumi stood firm.

Suga made a strangled noise that could’ve been a scream. _“Why the hell not?”_

“I’m having _fun.”_ Iwaizumi leaned back against the booth and crossed his arms, grinning.

Suga and Iwaizumi glared at each other across the table. “Asahi-san,” Suga said, his voice somehow level. “Can we have the check, please?”

Asahi flinched. “Sure,” Asahi answered skittering across the restaurant so quickly he could've been on the volleybal court. He handed the check to Suga. Suga slid it across the table.

“You can pay for your own dinner,” he said, stood up, and stalked out.

Iwaizumi settled back into his seat, fished out a credit card, and handed it to Asahi. Daichi slowly made his way to the other table.

“Is he okay?” Asahi asked as Daichi slid into the seat where Suga sat just moments before

Iwaizumi shrugged. “That may have been a little much,” he admitted. “It’ll pay off, though.”

“Um,” Daichi finally found his voice. “Are you sure?”

Iwaizumi grinned. “It’ll pay off for everyone involved.” He paused. “I’ll probably have to spend some time smoothing his feathers, and he’s going to kick my ass when this is over, and I’ll probably deserve it.” He had the decency to look sheepish. “But it will absolutely pay off.”

Daichi frowned. “I’m not sure I should trust you."

Iwaizumi shrugged again and gathered his things. “That’s fine,” he said. “But if you don’t show up at Terp, I will kick your ass into next week.”

“I don’t even know what Terp is!” Daichi protested.

“I’ll text you,” Iwaizumi replied, walking out the door. The chimes rang through the now-quiet diner.

“Well,” Asahi said. “That could’ve gone worse.”

“You’re not helping,” Daichi replied, staring at the door as if it had answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This week's chapter brought to you by ME BEING DONE WITH SCHOOL FOREVER!!!!!!! I graduate on Sunday. It's exciting. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading! I love hearing from you! 
> 
> [EDIT: I CANNOT BELIEVE I FORGOT TO LINK THE SONG SUGA IS DANCING TO I'M SO SORRY](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=imCd-m32oAs)
> 
> Come join me on [Tumblr](http://amairylle.tumblr.com) or [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/amairylle)


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daichi felt his soul leave his body. This was it. This was how he was going to die: in the middle of a crowded theater full of college students, done in by pale skin, stockings, and patent leather. He would never get the chance to ask Suga out. Truly, a tragedy for the ages.

Terp, Daichi put together without much of Iwaizumi's help, was short for Terpsichore, the school’s bi-annual amateur dance concert, followed by one of the campus’s biggest parties, all unofficially sponsored by the dance department. Between the performers, the choreographers, and the audience, a good third of the campus would be there.

Including Suga.

Daichi had never been to Terp, although not for lack of trying. He hadn’t been good enough friends with anyone involved his freshmen year, and sophomore year Noya had put less emphasis on the dance concert and more emphasis on the party. Daichi had declined to go; it hadn’t sounded like his thing. However, once he'd realized that some of his friends and teammates were performing, he changed his mind. He did his best to show up to support them, but had instead gotten sick two semesters in a row. After that, he hadn’t been able to spare the time because it was the Saturday before exams. Asahi filmed the relevant dances for him. Daichi appreciated it, but it wasn’t the same.

At long last, Daichi stood outside the theater; watching people file in, waiting for Iwaizumi, and fidgeting with the hem of his t-shirt. “It’s not a big deal,” Iwaizumi had told him on Wednesday. “Just wear a t-shirt and jeans.” The reassurance hadn’t stopped him from agonizing over and dismissing every item of clothing in his closet. Almost all of his t-shirts were from volleyball; that can’t be what Iwaizumi had in mind.

“It’s like a date,” Daichi had countered. “Shouldn’t I wear something nicer?”

Iwaizumi had laughed at him. “One, there’s going to be a ton of people there, and it’s July. If you wear a nice shirt, it’ll get gross. Two, do you really want me to be there when you and Suga have your first date?”

Daichi had stiffly admitted that he didn’t.

“So it’s not a date then. Stop thinking of it like one. Suga won’t be.”

In the end, Daichi had had to enlist Noya’s help. He didn’t want to admit to Iwaizumi that all his pants were either slacks or sweats, and that he hadn’t owned a passable pair of jeans since freshman year.

Daichi pulled his phone out of his pocket to check for messages. Iwaizumi had told him to meet them at the theater at seven thirty, and it was now edging towards seven forty-five. Daichi was starting to get nervous. What if something had happened? What if Suga had changed his mind, and decided that he didn’t want to meet Daichi? He frowned. He’d heard what Suga had said in the diner, but there was still a part of him that didn’t quite believe it. Suga’s praise of his voice and his thighs had just been so… much. Daichi could believe that he had a nice voice and nice legs, but saying that he had “deadly thighs” and “a voice you could fall asleep in” was hard for Daichi to wrap his head around.

“You’re overthinking,” Iwaizumi said, from behind him.

Daichi startled, nearly dropping his phone. “Where did you come from?” he yelped.

“My house,” Iwaizumi replied. “Sorry I’m late.”

Daichi noticed that he was alone. His shoulders tensed.

Iwaizumi noticed, of course. He sighed. “I’m late because I was trying to figure out where the hell my idiot boyfriend and my idiot best friend went, because they weren’t at their apartment, and they weren’t answering their phones.”

“That doesn’t sound good…”

“They’re fine,” Iwaizumi said quickly. “They’re both performing.”

Daichi gulped. “But I thought you said they weren’t performing?“

“Yeah, they weren’t  _ supposed _ to be performing, because Suga hasn’t been a member of Terp since he finished undergrad and Oikawa isn’t a student anymore at all, but apparently the head choreographer called Suga on Monday in tears because a lot of the dance department is out sick. Mono. They’re both filling in.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Iwaizumi rubbed the back of his neck, and giving a sheepish smile. “I’d have told you sooner, but nobody tells me anything.”

“That’s a little hard to believe,” Daichi pointed out.

“It’s not,” Iwaizumi replied, his voice and shoulders stiff. “Either they forgot or they thought it’d be funny.”

Daichi snorted. “That makes more sense. Should we go in?”

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi said, leading them both into the crowd bottlenecking its way into the theater. “I don’t know how possible it is anymore, but I’d like to get us good seats.”

They pushed their way into the lobby of the crowded theater. Iwaizumi herded Daichi to the right, stopping to show two tickets to an usher and grab a program from—

“Shimizu?” Daichi stared. “What are you doing here?”

“Ah, Daichi, hello,” she replied. “I used to be a house manager for work-study, and they’re short on people tonight, so Hitoka-chan asked me to fill in.”

Daichi took a program. “Yachi is here too?”

Shimizu glowed with a quiet pride. “She’s probably the best stage manager that the theater department has right now. She does a lot of these shows.”

“That’s incredible. I never knew. How was your conference?”

“It was fine,” she replied. “You should go, though, while there are still seats to be had.”

Daichi nodded, glancing at an impatient Iwaizumi. “I’ll talk to you later then?”

“Of course. Have a nice night.”

As Daichi descended into the theater, a familiar blonde caught his eye. “Tsukishima does lights?” He asked Iwaizumi, disbelief in his voice.

“Tsukishima does sound,” Iwaizumi corrected. “He also DJs at the party afterwards.  _ Yamaguchi _ does lights.”

“Does the whole team come to this?” Daichi squeaked, embarrassed.

Iwaizumi gestured to some empty seats in the middle of the auditorium. Next to those empty seats, however, sat Kageyama and Kyoutani.

“Hey, Daichi-san, Iwaizumi-san” Kageyama greeted them. Kyoutani grunted his greeting instead.

“Issei and Takahiro would be here too, but they’re still sick, and Asahi is actually in the show this year,” Iwaizumi continued. “Kunimi helps out backstage, and Kindaichi, Noya, Yahaba and Hinata are all dancers.” He sat down and turned to Kageyama and Kyoutani, “Tanaka and Watari couldn’t make it?” He asked.

They shook their heads. “Watari said that exams are really bad this semester, and he can’t afford to take the train out right now,” Kyoutani said.

“Noya-san forgot to tell Tanaka-san until it was too late for him to get time off,” Kageyama added. “Tanaka-san was upset, so Yamaguchi is filming for him. For both of them, I think.”

“Watari and Tanaka come to this?” Daichi asked. “They don’t even go here. They’re not even in this prefecture!”

“Everyone comes to this,” Iwaizumi shrugged. “It’s a really good show.”

“Ennoshita-san even came once,” Kageyama added.

Daichi sat down heavily, instantly letting his head drop into his hands. “I’m a terrible Captain,” he said.

Iwaizumi elbowed him. “Stop that. ”

“Literally all of my friends are involved in this." Daichi moaned, ignoring him. "How did I not know it was this big of a deal?”

Kageyama shrugged. “Who told you about this, anyway?”

“Originally, Noya,” Daichi grumbled. “And he made it sound like this huge party and I wasn’t interested.”

"That's because you don't like it when there's too many people."

"These are my people!" Daichi protested. "I should've tried harder to come."

"No one's mad at you, Daichi," Iwaizumi cut in. "Shut up, please."

Daichi made a strangled noise, still feeling like shit. He stared at his hands, his shoulders tense.

"Oh my god, no." Iwaizumi said. "I'm not dealing with melodrama tonight. Look." He grabbed Daichi's shoulder and forced him to make eye contact. "Asahi filmed all the shows for you, and you made a point of congratulating everyone the next time you saw them. No one begrudges you for not coming in person until now. Please knock it off? This is really not what I came here to do."

Daichi looked over at Kyoutani and Kageyama, who nodded, silently confirming Iwaizumi's statement. He shrugged out of Iwaizumi's grip. "You scold like someone's mom."

"I have practice. Don't mention it again."

Daichi pulled out his program. “Okay,” he said. “Which dances are our friends in?” he asked.

Iwaizumi took it from him immediately, scanning it. “They might have changed the set list for the second half, so I can’t be sure which ones Oikawa and Suga are in.”

“Why?” Daichi asked.

“The dances are arranged roughly in terms of skill level,” he answered. “So the better dances—the ones done by students studying dance instead of whoever’s interested—are towards the end of the show.”

“Shouyou’s dances are always really good,” Kageyama protested gruffly.

Iwaizumi chuckled. “All the dances are good, Kageyama. I meant that the ones in the back half of the show are harder, and technique matters more. They’re also a lot smaller; missing dancers would be a big deal.”

Kageyama sat back in his seat, mollified.

“So Suga and Oikawa will be in those?” Daichi asked.

“Yeah,” Iwaizumi replied. “They also won’t be on the program, because they’re last minute substitutions.” He pointed to a dance earlier in the show. “If Tooru isn’t in this one, though, I’ll eat a volleyball.”

Daichi leaned over to read the description. It was called “Outer Space In Your Face.” He snickered. “If Oikawa isn’t in that one, I’ll cook the volleyball for you.”

Iwaizumi laughed. “We can find everyone else, though.” He turned to Kyoutani, “Which one’s Yahaba in?”

“The burlesque one,” Kyoutani said, blushing.

“I know,” Iwaizumi said, “But which? They’re really close together this year, and I don’t see Yahaba’s name.”

“That’s because it’s just under ‘Tokai Burlesque,’ and they didn’t list everyone’s names.” His voice dropped and his blush spread to his ears. “Plus, you’ll know when you see it. It’s the really good one instead of the one that looks like they barely tried.”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth to tease Kyoutani, but the lights dimmed before he could. Daichi had no time to process the fact that Yahaba did burlesque before two girls took the stage.

“Good evening, everyone!” the first called out. “Welcome to Terpsichore!” The crowd cheered. “My name is Eli, and this is Honoka, and we’re the head choreographers for Terp this year.”

“We have a few changes in the program tonight,” Honoka said. She paused, looking sheepish. “Well, a lot of changes, actually, especially in the second half of the program. We had to shuffle things a lot to deal with the plague going around campus. None of you get sick, okay?”

“See?” Iwaizumi whispered to Daichi.

“We’ve published a corrected program,” Eli said. “There’s a link on twitter, and on the Terp Facebook page.”

“Or you can just be surprised and enjoy the show!” Honoka cut in. The audience cheered again. “Just remember,” Honoka continued, shaking a finger at the audience. “There’s no flash photography or recording allowed, and please only check your phones in between the dances! It’s super distracting.”

“Thank you,” Eli finished, “and enjoy the show!”

They disappeared offstage, the lights went down, and the first group of dancers took the stage. The first few groups were enjoyable, although in Daichi’s opinion, they definitely danced with more enthusiasm than skill. Daichi didn’t feel the need to check the program unless he saw someone he recognized: Kindaichi was in a medley dance that Daichi faintly recognized as a series of K-pop covers, and Hinata was in something definitively memey that made great use of his ridiculous jumps. Daichi felt a little bad lumping them in with the other dancers that seemed more enthusiastic than talented, but it seemed like they were having fun, which was what mattered, he supposed.

As the show progressed, The dances became more difficult and better-executed, just as Iwaizumi had said they would. There was Yahaba’s burlesque number, which was very well-done, even if nothing could have prepared Daichi for the sight of Yahaba in a corset. True to Iwaizumi’s word, Oikawa was in the back of “Outer Space In Your Face.” appearing to have a far better time than any of the other dancers. Asahi and Noya were in a dance together, something that was very energetic and well-received and involved a lot of clapping, both from the dancers and the audience. Daichi wasn’t quite sure what Asahi was doing there, however, until, suddenly, Asahi threw Noya into a double backflip, which he landed perfectly as the final chorus started.

“I see why Asahi was in that,” Daichi whispered, as the dance ended.

“Oh?” Iwaizumi replied.

“If he’d been in the audience, he probably would have had a heart attack out of worry. Honestly, I almost did as well.”

Iwaizumi chuckled quietly. “Your libero is made of rubber. He’ll be fine.” He fiddled with his phone for a second. “Shush and watch,” he said. “The next one is important.”

“What? Why?” Daichi asked.

Iwaizumi gestured at the stage in reply.

Daichi sucked in a breath. He wasn’t ready.

The lights came up on a group of about a dozen dancers, with Suga at the center. While the entire auditorium erupted, Daichi took the opportunity to stare. Suga was wearing a pale blue button-down with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows, showing off the graceful lines of his arms and hands. He also wore a navy vest and matching slacks, which hugged his legs beautifully. Suga's hair shone in the stage lights, and was that eyeliner? Wow.

Suga chuckled inaudibly, once, as the audience screamed, and Daichi filed the smile away so he could view it later, on repeat, before he went to sleep.

The music started soft, growing in volume and power and eventually silencing the audience as the dancers retook control of the room. They had to do so little—the audience was already thrumming with anticipation. They snapped their fingers to the beat, in perfect unison, and then everything exploded.

It looked like something out of an old American movie Daichi had seen once but sharper, bolder, sexier. The dancers moved in waves, wrist flicks and hair flips accentuating footwork so fast that Daichi could barely follow the movement. The energy was mesmerizing, and Daichi felt himself pulled into the dance until the screaming audience and the theater faded from his awareness and there was only the deep beat and fast-paced electro-swing melody, and in the middle of it all, Suga, just Suga, fluid and snappy and captivating. Daichi couldn’t have looked away if he’d wanted to. When the light caught Suga’s face, Daichi could see him smiling like he was going to devour the audience, devour a lover, and Daichi felt his mouth go dry.

Suga spun, threw a flirty wink in Daichi’s direction, and then turned his back to the audience, swaying his hips in a way that Daichi hadn’t even known was possible on a guy. Then the song began to build back into the final chorus, the dancers moving slowly, helping to build the tension. When the beat dropped for the last time, they took everything even higher, harder, more.

It felt like it would last forever. It was over far sooner than Daichi would have liked.

Iwaizumi reached over and tapped Daichi on the chin. “Close your mouth,” he said. “You look like an idiot.”

Daichi obeyed, closing his mouth with a snap. He heard Kyoutani and Kageyama snicker. He tried to react in a meaningful way, to tell Iwaizumi what he thought, but ended up gaping like a fish again instead.

“I know,” Iwaizumi said. “He’s really hot.” He handed Daichi the program book. “You can hold this if you want. You know, over your lap.”

Daichi flushed an indignant red. He slid the program book over a boner he hadn’t even realized he had. “Why are you like this,” he said.

“I’m having fun,” Iwaizumi said, repeating himself from a week before. “Besides, would you really want to be anywhere else?”

Daichi looked back and forth between Iwaizumi and the stage. “No, I really wouldn’t,” he admitted.

There were two other dances before Suga came on stage again. Watching them, Daichi realized that his crush on Suga was only half the reason Daichi’s eyes had been drawn to him to much in the last dance. There was something different about the way Suga danced. He had something that many of the other performers were lacking, and Daichi, with his staggering lack of knowledge about dance, had no clue what it was.

Of course, when Suga came onstage again, Daichi didn’t think to himself,  _ Maybe I can figure out what made him so good when I watch him this time.  _  He also didn’t think,  _ Hey awesome, it’s Suga again, _ or even,  _ Wow, he’s hot. _ Suga had changed costumes in between dances, and the result completely robbed Daichi of coherence.  _ Skin, _ he thought.  _ Oh my god. _

Suga had swapped out his sophisticated shirt and vest for a black crop-top with a pink, turquoise, and yellow logo that Daichi couldn’t quite read. It hung off his shoulders enticingly, exposing several inches of very biteable collarbone. Instead of pants, he wore turquoise sequined booty shorts and thigh-high fishnets, which left a couple inches of pale thigh perfectly bare. His shoes were black, shiny, and definitely women’s high heels.

Daichi felt his soul leave his body. This was it. This was how he was going to die: in the middle of a crowded theater full of college students, done in by pale skin, stockings, and patent leather. He would never get the chance to ask Suga out. Truly, a tragedy for the ages.

It took Daichi a few moments to realize that the music had started. It was something poppy that lent itself to a lighter, more energetic dance than the last one, but still with its sharp edges. The dancers ended up in a line at the chorus, with Suga next to Oikawa—Oh hey, Oikawa was in this one too—doing body rolls that Daichi had never seen on a real person. He was suddenly very glad for the program book in his lap. He hoped Iwaizumi didn’t notice.

Although, that problem was far less compelling in the face of Suga, dancing, a happy, devious smile on his face, his shirt pulling up to expose still more pale torso every time he moved his arms, and his legs. If Daichi thought too hard about Suga’s legs, he might actually die, but it was hard not to when Suga was dancing, all bright, hot, and happy, and everything he did only dug Daichi in deeper.

This dance, like the last one, was too short as far as Daichi was concerned—he didn’t want Suga to leave the stage. Fortunately for Daichi, Suga was in the next dance as well.

Unlike the other two dances, Daichi recognized the music. An Ellie Goulding song, something Michimiya was very fond of. Daichi wrinkled his nose as soon as he made the connection; he didn’t want it to detract from watching Suga dance.

It didn’t. If anything, recognizing the song made the whole thing better, because Daichi could appreciate the connection between the lyrics and the choreography without having to devote any brainpower to interpreting the singer’s words.

This dance, like the song, was just as sexy and violent as the last, but instead of being angry, it was desperate. Suga’s movements were just on the edge of ragged as he fought to get something he couldn’t reach. It was desire, sweet and painful, written in every kick, every turn, every twist of his body, every one of his sighs.

Daichi found himself having to stifle a whine. Once again, he lost the room, lost the seat underneath him and the people next to him as his focus narrowed to Suga and his dance. He wet his lips. He had to clench his hands into fists to stop himself from reaching forward, trying to run his fingers across Suga’s exposed skin.

The animalistic fervor of the choreography was captivating. Daichi lost himself in the rise and fall of Suga’s chest as he fought something unseen, something inside himself, to reach—no, to claim someone. Daichi’s heart pounded in his ears. He wanted nothing more in that instant to take Suga apart.

The last chord of the song left Daichi gasping. He hadn’t realized how far he’d been gone until the music wasn’t there anymore.

“Are you alive?” Iwaizumi asked, an edge of smugness under the concern.

Onstage, Suga waved at the audience, smiling brightly, and then flounced away.

Daichi’s hands shook. “That was a lot more than I was expecting.”

Iwaizumi nodded, pushing Daichi up. “He won’t be in anything else. Come on.” He herded Daichi outside and sat him down on a bench. “Breathe,” he said.

Daichi did his best. “Holy shit,” he whispered.

Iwaizumi chuckled. “I feel like I should have warned you, but—” He doubled over at the knees, laughing. “—your face was completely worth it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Daichi punched Iwaizumi in the leg.

Iwaizumi took a practiced step just out of Daichi’s reach. “It means I was really looking forward to your reaction,” he said. “You’re really into him and you wear your heart on your sleeve and I love it, but, damn. I was not expecting you to be so thirsty.”

Daichi let out an indignant whine. “He’s so far out of my league.”

Iwaizumi scoffed. “I said no melodrama, okay? Stop that.”

“But…” Daichi gestured helplessly at the dance theater. The strains of Ke$ha’s “Warrior” echoed faintly out the still-open doors.

Iwaizumi gave him a look, unimpressed. “Nope. Don’t care.” He pulled Daichi up and led him to the house where the party would be held. “I’ve been listening to him whine about you for two weeks. You don’t get to angst about whether or not he’s in your league.”

Daichi perked up. “He talks about me?”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes, opening the door to the house without even knocking. “I’m going to put some beer in you so you’ll relax, and then we’re going to sit and you can have your existential crisis until Suga shows up.” He pushed Daichi into an armchair in the back corner of a room. “Sit.” He disappeared into the kitchen, greeting people doing last-minute set up as he went.

“I thought you said I wasn’t allowed to angst?” Daichi asked, when he returned.

Iwaizumi pressed a beer into Daichi’s hand. “You get ten minutes,” he said. “Use them wisely.”

In the end, Iwaizumi only gave him three. He perched on the edge of the armchair and watched Daichi stare into his beer for as long as he could, before pulling Daichi up and into a different corner.

“What was wrong with where I was sitting?” Daichi asked.

“The house is starting to fill, and there’s a little more privacy here.” Iwaizumi looked at Daichi’s outfit, carefully appraising his new jeans. “Also, no one can see your ass if you’re sitting on it.”

Daichi whined. “Please don’t talk about me like I’m a piece of meat. I’m nervous enough as it is.”

Iwaizumi grasped Daichi’s shoulder, firm and comforting. “Take a deep breath.”

Daichi did.

“He’s stupid into you, Daichi. It’s going to be fine.”

Daichi glared at him. “No pressure,” he said.

“Don’t start,” Iwaizumi shot back. “You  _ literally _ can’t screw this up.”

“See, the more you say that, the more I freak out.” Daichi’s voice was getting high and anxious.

Iwaizumi looked unimpressed. “You’re a great guy, Daichi. You’re a good friend and a good person and I think you two will do well together.”

“Why do you sound like you’re giving me your blessing to marry him?”

“Don’t be sarcastic.” Iwaizumi let him go and took a sip of his beer. “So what did you think of the dance?”

Daichi tilted his head, confused. “What are you doing?” he asked.

“I’m making small talk, Sawamura. It’s a party. That’s what you do until the DJ actually gets here.”

“But there’s music going?”

“It’s somebody’s iPod. Answer the question.”

Daichi thought. “It was good, I think?” He said. “I don’t know a lot about dance and some of the dancers didn’t seem very skilled, but it was fun.” He took a sip of his beer. “You were right about it getting better as the show went on, though.”

Iwaizumi nodded. “It was better than I expected, given the circumstances.” He glanced up at someone over Daichi’s shoulder and gave them a small nod.

“What are you doing?” Daichi asked.

Iwaizumi grinned. Daichi felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned around and almost dropped his beer.

There was Suga, in all his bright-eyed and sequined glory. He hadn’t changed out of his costume and Daichi felt his mouth go dry. He tried to say something, but he couldn’t make his mouth move.

“Musician-san!” Suga chirped, grinning. “I’m so glad you came!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry it's been so long, and thank you all for sticking with me. I hope it was worth the wait!
> 
> The Terp Playlist can be found [on Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/verdigrisvagabond/playlist/2hVxF1gMBN2UFtxyigC8Ic)
> 
> Come say hi to me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/amairylle) or [Tumblr!](https://amairylle.tumblr.com)


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